


Chemistry

by sosaveme



Series: The Christmas Chronicles [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Angst, Christmas, Fluff, Happy Ending, High School AU, Homophobia, M/M, OC later on, Spin the Bottle, also part of a tradition, but you don't have to read the others to understand this one, chemistry class, chemistry was originally posted december 2017, cross-posted on ffn, i make one of these every christmas, kicked out, oh and high school, part of a series, rated teen because i don't remember why
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-01 19:57:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16290791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sosaveme/pseuds/sosaveme
Summary: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have gone to the same school for years now. They seem to hate each other--they fight in the hallways, through insults back and forth in class, and do whatever they can to get under each other's skin. But is that all? Do they really hate each other as much as everyone thinks they do? And on top of that, does each one hate the other as much as each thinks they do? After all, neither has ever had a full conversation with the other without it involving sneers and jabs.Perhaps there could be something more.When the chemistry teacher--Mr. Slughorn--partners them up for an assignment over winter break, their relationship could begin to change.Will they become friends? Decide that that seeming-hate could be admiration, or even love? Or will they just continue to despise each other, the way they have since the duo first walked through those high school doors to begin four years of hell together?





	1. A Chemistry Assignment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my beta, @theladykate22 (FFN)! This is part of a series, but you don't have to read the whole series. Every holiday season I post one of these; each one will be between three and seven chapters long and each will be a different ship.
> 
> Also, disclaimer: I own none of the rights to Harry Potter.
> 
> And, just to clarify: This story takes place in a high school AU in like 2016/2017/2018/2019-ish times.

I sighed. This class had been going on for far too long. When was it ever going to end? It was so boring. But at least it wasn’t as bad as previous years. Mr. Slughorn made the class much better than Mr. Snape had, as much as I hated to admit that. After all, Snape was my godfather.

 

I leaned my head against my fist trying not to let my eyes cross.  _ Just one more day after today and then I’m free, _ I reminded myself. But unfortunately, Christmas break also meant that I would have to spend a lot more time with my parents.

 

I rubbed my eyes. I was pretty sure that Slughorn was saying something about homework, but I couldn’t be sure.

 

I glanced up ahead of me. There he was. Perfect. Beautiful.

 

_ Goddammit. I’m a Malfoy! Start acting like it! Malfoy’s aren’t gay. _

 

I grimaced. I was pretty sure that my father would kill me if he knew about my not being straight. Or my infatuation with Potter.

 

_ Potter. _

 

I was totally in love with him. I had been ever since we first met. That was why I was so mean to him, I guess. Because I didn’t want anyone to know. Because I was so terrified of what would happen if my father found out.

 

“...and lastly, Draco and Harry,” Slughorn finished. My head jerked up from the table where it had been resting just seconds prior.

 

“Er… what?” I asked, my chair rocking dangerously back and forth. The whole class giggled at my sudden confusion.

 

And then Potter,  _ stupid Potter, _ turned and looked at me. “We’re working together, Malfoy. Didn’t you hear?”

 

“I heard perfectly clearly, Potter,” I snapped back. It was a bit of a lie, but I definitely hadn’t missed the part about working with him. Even if I had missed everything else. It didn’t matter though; I could always ask Theodor after school what the assignment was. Working with Potter though… that did matter.

 

“Anyway,” Slughorn began to continue. I knew that I should try and focus, but I just didn’t have it in me. I was just too tired. Tired of that class, tired of those people, but most of all, tired of life.

 

I rested my head on the desk again, daydreaming commencing once more.

 

_ What would it be like to kiss Potter? Perfect. Sweet. Gentle. He’d put his hand under my chin and… Stop it, Draco! You have a boyfriend! _ I mentally slapped myself.  _ But he lives like five hundred miles away… That doesn’t matter! _ I grimaced slightly. I hated having this sort of dilemma. I couldn’t even ask anyone for advice on what to do. Break up with Alex just because I had a crush on someone else? Or stay with him because it was someone I could never have? Or… never mind.

 

The bell rang suddenly, and I jumped out of my seat as fast could. Finally. I got to go home.

 

I forcefully yanked my black and green backpack from the back of my chair and marched out of the room, exiting before anyone else was even out of their desks.

 

I continued to walk down each hallway, angling myself towards the door. I could see light. I was going to be free after seven long hours in hell!

 

But of course, that couldn’t be the end, could it? I couldn’t have just a few minutes of peace in between home and school, could I?

 

“Malfoy! Hey, Malfoy! Wait up!” I could hear Potter working his way through the crowd towards me. Edging ever closer, shoving his way through the crowd like he owned the place. And really, he practically did. The Golden Boy. The one that virtually all of the teachers loved, the pet of the principle, beloved by all. I took a deep breath, realizing that I couldn’t ignore him forever as he continued to force himself through the hallway toward me.

 

I halted in my path, turned around, and stuck a finger in his face. It almost went up his nose. I chose not to comment on that. “Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you.”

 

He frowned slightly, taking a step back and shoving my hand out of his face. “Um, since when do you ever  _ not  _ want to throw snide comments my way and make me feel like shit about myself?”

 

_ Always. I never wanted to hurt you. I just didn’t know how to handle my feelings and now it’s too late to stop. _ “Go away.”

 

“No. I don’t like you and you don’t like me, but you’re gonna have to deal just like me if you want to get a good mark on this assignment. It’s worth half of our grade in chemistry this trimester!”

 

Well shit. “Go away. I don’t have time after school today, so I’m not going to waste any more of the precious minutes of my life basking in the stench that is your arrogance and stupidity. Now listen closely:  _ scram. _ ” I didn’t want to have to work with him until I knew what the project was.

 

Potter gave an indignant huff. “There’s the snark. But fine, I’ll leave you alone this afternoon. But not tomorrow. Got it?”

 

I rolled my eyes at him. “Sure. Now if you don’t mind me, I actually have places to be. I’m sure you probably don’t, but there are things I’ve gotta do.” It was sort of a lie. All I needed to do was go home.  _ And get away from those green eyes. _

 

I made a point of turning on my heel, my black sweatshirt swirling around my waist like a skirt on a prom dress as I did so.

 

When I got out of the doors, I put my book bag on the ground under the roof of the building and untied my hoodie from around my middle, pulling it over my head. I thrust my hand into my bag and remove a thick grey scarf, wrapping it around my neck, draping one end over my left shoulder and allowing the other to flow down my front.

 

_ And I wonder why I get called gay, _ I thought as I brushed my hair from my eyes.

 

Then I began my long walk home. I hated that my mother was never willing to come pick me up on days like this. But I supposed that I had it easier than some kids.

 

My Doc Martins left an interesting imprint on the snowy sidewalk as I move west along the roadway. Those marks got quickly covered up as the snow began to fall faster though.

 

I shivered. It was so cold out there. Why didn’t I bring a warmer jacket? I shoved my fingers under my arms as I tried to keep warm. My breath was clear in the air around me, but practically nothing else was. How did the fog get so thick so fast?

 

Regardless, I made it home before it was too late, and made myself a cup of coffee. My mother probably would have scolded me if she’d seen but, well, she didn’t.

 

As I warmed up, I texted Theo, who graciously explained the assignment to me, though I was pretty sure I could hear his annoyance through the messages he sent.

 

From what he said, it sounded like quite a lot of work. I would probably have to spend a copious amount of time over winter break working on it. Because Potter probably wouldn’t help at all.


	2. A Chemistry Partner

I walked into school the following morning, head held high, ready to greet the day. Or, not so much ready, but let’s just say that I had accepted that I had to.

 

I turned down the hallway that would lead me to my locker. Usually, I would have met some of my friends along the way, but Vincent and Gregory were both already gone for the holidays and Theodore was sick. No one else in this prison I really considered a friend.

 

I reached the cramped main corridor that was officially named Hallway L, but due to its congested mass of students and overbearing stench of of body odor and cheap Ax was referred to as "The Hellway."

 

I pushed my way through the closely packed bodies towards my locker at the end of the hall. I had been unfortunate enough to be assigned a bottom locker this year and was in constant danger of being slammed into sharp edges of the metal whenever I dared to open the damned thing. I had just crouched down to enter the combination when I realized someone was behind me.

 

I jumped up as though I'd been electrocuted and almost hit my head on the open locker above me. I hated it when people snuck up on me. I also hated having a bottom locker.

 

“Watch it,” I snapped at the girl above me as her locker door nearly collided with my head. She nodded quickly, closing the door to her locker and scampering away.

 

Then I turned toward the figure behind the retreating girl. Potter.

 

“What?” I deadpanned.

 

“I think we should have lunch together.”

 

I gave him a look. “No.”

 

“We need to get to work right away!”   
  


“No,” I repeated. I did not want to have to deal with him at lunch. I didn’t want to have to deal with him  _ at all. _ Another thing I hated: having to juggle feelings towards someone while trying to remain calm.

 

“Hey, I don’t like you much either, but we’ve got to do this! I think we both know that neither of us wants to let the other one do everything for fear of getting a bad grade for it. I don’t want you to screw things up, and you don’t want me to screw things up, so we have to work together. The whole point of Mr. Slughorn making people work in pairs is that get to know each other! Why do you think he put us in a group?”

 

I chose not to answer the last question. “Ignoring your long, run-on sentences, fine. But just work, okay? I don’t want to have to actually socialize with you.”

 

“You’re weird,” I heard Potter mutter. I assumed that was a yes.

  
  


At lunch, I sat down in my usual spot near the door. Alone. I had completely forgotten about my agreement with Potter, so I opened my lunch bag and started pulling things out, preparing to eat by myself.

 

Then he appeared next to me, seemingly out of nowhere, with a lunch tray in hand.

 

I jumped slightly. “Okay, you  _ have _ to stop doing that!”

 

“Doing what?” Potter asked.

 

“Sneaking up on me!” I said, moving my things over to make room for him beside me.

 

He cocked his head, then said, “Alright. Let’s get to work.”

 

“Okay. Where do we even begin? Wait… don’t we need some books or a computer to do some research on? Or at the very least a pen and paper?”

 

He shrugged. “Phone.”

 

“But won’t we have to jump around a lot? You know, between browsers and documents and stuff?”

 

“I look stuff up on my phone, you write it down on yours.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Potter frowned a little, like he wasn’t expecting me to agree.

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t know. I just assumed there’d be more pushback. You generally don’t like to have to cave to other people’s ideas.”

 

“And you know me so well, how?”

 

“It’s how you are with everyone.”

 

“Well, don’t just assume things about people. I do usually make some resistance to other people’s ideas, yes, but I don’t see a problem with yours.”

 

Potter just looked confused. “Really?”

 

“Really. Can we get to work now? I don’t want to spend any more time with you than I have to. I thought I already made that clear.”

 

“I suppose you did,” Potter said, seeming to take that as a sign that I was still an annoying jerk. Which I was.

 

I pulled out my phone and he pulled out his. The two of us sat in silence for a moment while I put in my password and he used his thumb print to open our accounts. I made a mental note that his finger was all I needed, should the occasion arise, to get into his things.

 

I pulled up a blank Google Doc and then turned to Potter. He was frowning slightly. “Where do we begin?” he asked, the same way I had just moments earlier.

 

I snorted.

 

“Why is that funny?”

 

“Because just a second ago you were acting like it was no problem to start work right now!”

 

He shook his head. “Fine. Why don’t we eat lunch and then get going?”

 

“Sure.”

 

He pulled out a sandwich and we started eating, once again in silence. Eventually, Potter seemed to decide that silence was too heavy.

 

“What’s your favorite color?”

 

_ Rainbow. _ “Does black count?”

 

“No. That’s a shade.”

 

“Then really dark crimson.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.” I resisted the urge to snap my eyes back into my skull. Why would I lie about my favorite color?

 

The two of us got quiet again, and Potter seemed to realize that I wasn’t going to ask him what his was, so he just said, “Mine’s blue.”

 

“That’s original,” I responded.

 

He made a face. “Why are you judging me based on my favorite color?”

 

“I don’t know. Because I can.”   
  


“Well it’s not like I said pink or anything,” Potter snorted.

 

I cocked my head. “What’s wrong with pink?” I asked.

 

“Huh. I supposed that you of all people would hate pink.” He gestured to my attire.

 

I glanced down at my black MCR tee and skinny jeans. “No. Pink’s fine. I just hate wearing color in general.”

 

“Ah.” Quiet. “What type of music do you like?”

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” I pointed at my shirt. “Emocore, emo, rock, heavy metal, punk rock, et cetera.”

 

“I’ll just pretend I know what ‘emo’ and ‘emocore’ are.”

 

“Works for me.”

 

Quiet.

 

“Can I have your phone number?”

 

That question caused me to almost snort my PB&J up my nose. “No! Why?”

 

“Well, we have to work on this over break, obviously. How can we do that if neither of us have means of communicating with the other?”

 

I grimaced. He had a point. But I really didn’t want to give him my number. That just felt too… I don’t know. Too much like we were becoming friends. And believe me, I would have loved if that could happen, but I also knew how my mind worked. Being too close to him would just drive me insane. But I didn’t entirely have a choice.

 

And so that was how I ended up giving Harry Potter my number.


	3. A Chemistry Get-Together

_ Buzz. _

 

_ Buzz. _

 

_ Buzz. _

 

“No.”

 

I groaned and rolled over in bed. My phone vibrated again. I grabbed it, glanced at the time (which read 10:30 a.m.), pushed the off switch, and then rolled back over, pulling the sheets over my head again.

 

It was winter break. There was no way I was getting up before noon.

  
  


I rubbed my eyes. Light was pouring through the open window, pooling on the floor of my room. I glanced at the clock. I couldn’t stay in bed any longer.

 

I hoisted myself up and grabbed my iPhone 8, turning it on.

 

There were more texts than the ones from 10:30. They were all from Potter, except for three from Alex and one from Theo.

 

6:30 a.m.

 

_ hey wut time do u want to meet _

 

6:31

 

_ oh ha ha _

 

6:31

 

_ we should prbly decide where 2 meet @ 1st _

 

6:32

 

_ ds ur place wrk _

 

6:32

 

_ mine might latr in break _

 

6:33

 

_ why rnt u answer _

 

6:33

 

_ u rly nt up yet? _

 

6:35

 

_ nvr mnd we can decide latr _

 

7:50

 

_ awake now? _

 

8:19

 

_ hw bout now? _

 

9:47

 

_ rspnd pls _

 

10:27

 

_ i gve up _

 

10:30

 

_ if u rnt awake yet i dnt no wut u do wit ur lif _

 

10:32

 

_ im goin out bi _

 

I sighed. That was too many texts.

 

I decided to text back, despite my slight annoyance.

 

_ I’m up now. Jeesus. You don’t need to be so pushy. _

 

_ And what’s with the grammar? If you have so little time to spare that you get up at the crack of dawn and still can’t be bothered to text in complete sentences with capitalization, punctuation, and semi-decent spelling, then I don’t know what  _ you _ do with your life. _

 

Suddenly, his icon appeared at the bottom of my screen with three dots, indicating that he was typing back.

 

Harry:

_ cool so r u up 4 today? _

 

Harry:

_ and i ddnt get up at the crack of dawn _

 

Harry:

_ ur jus lazy _

 

Harry:

_ so today then? _

 

Me:

_ No. I want at least one day of peace. Will tomorrow work? _

 

Harry:

_ i gues bt not @my plce _

 

Me:

_ Why not? _

 

Harry:

_ fam has friends cmin ovr _

 

Me:

_ That’s fine. We can do my house. My parents are going to be gone anyway. I’ll send you the address tomorrow morning. _

 

Harry:

_ y nt gve me the address now? _

 

Me:

_ Fine. But you can’t come over until the agreed upon time tomorrow. _

 

Harry:

_ wuts the time? _

 

Me:

_ Does 2:30 work? _

 

Harry:

_ yeh thats good _

 

Me:

_ Great. Can I go now? _

 

Harry:

_ yeh. y? u hvnt had lunch yet? _

 

Me:

_ No. I haven’t had breakfast yet. _

 

Harry:

_ it almost 1!!! _

 

Me:

_ That’s my point. Now bye. _

 

I put my phone away, even though it kept dinging at me, and headed downstairs to grab something to eat.

 

Dad had left the house long ago to go to work—or so I assumed, since he wasn’t there. Whenever his office called him in on the weekends, he’d race off right away without a word, like he would rather be there than at the house. Part of me wondered if it was that he didn’t like Mom and me, but I knew that probably wasn’t the case.

 

I plopped down at the table, alone with my thoughts, cereal, and banana. That was how most of my mornings were spent, along with afternoons that I was home.

 

Dad was always at work, and Mom never got up until even later than I did.

 

So I got to spend quality time with myself. Yeah. Not the greatest for someone who hates to be alone. I didn’t ever invite anyone over—social anxiety—but I also hated when the house got so quiet you could hear a pin drop from another room. It just didn’t feel right.

 

That was the main reason that I’d petitioned for a dog when I was little, but those requests had never gone through. “No one will be home to take care of it.” “We’re just too busy.” “Can you really take care of an animal?”

 

That was what I’d always here from my parents, and it was always an effort to keep from reminding them that Mom was at home  _ every single day. _ Then again, in the evenings she’d go out with her friends. But by then, I was usually home. My theory was that my parents just didn’t want me to have a reason to run around the house with someone, tearing up their precious furniture.

 

Of course, there used to be the butler—Dobby—but he had retired ages ago, leaving me feeling alone whenever I was in the house.

 

But I didn’t really have anywhere to go, did I? My only friends were miles away for their vacations, and I wasn’t the sort of guy who would just go to the mall alone.

 

I sighed. It looked like I had a day of wandering the property and watching T.V. in front of me.

  
  


Dinner rolled around faster than I expected it to, and somehow, the entire family managed to sit together for a whole thirty minutes.

 

Silently, of course. None of us ever really showed any desire to share what we did in our lives, especially since we could all expect everyone to do mostly the same things every day—Mom spent the whole day on her phone, browsing through social media, updating her blog, designing clothes, and maybe going shopping with her friends, Dad spent the whole day at the office doing paper work, and I spent the whole day either at school, doing school work, or being absolutely unproductive.

 

As I took a bite of my stew, nearly done with my food, I realized I should probably mention my homework assignment to them. They’d be pissed if they found out I was hanging around Potter and probably wouldn’t give me a chance to explain, so I figured I should probably dodge that bullet and tell them sooner rather than later.

 

“So, I have a chemistry project I have to work on over break,” I said slowly.

 

“That’s fine. As long as you get it done.” My father was all about grades. I didn’t get to do anything that I wanted to do until I was completely done with every last sliver of my homework.

 

“Yeah, I know.” I paused. “We have to work in partner groups.”

 

“Well, make sure whoever you’re working with knows that you have to get a good grade. Don’t let those classmates of yours drag you down.”

 

“I think he generally gets fairly decent grades. In everything except chemistry.”

 

“Then make sure that he doesn’t slack off, but don’t let him be the reason you get something below an A.”

 

“It’s Harry Potter.”

 

My father raised an eyebrow. “Really? Is that going to work?” He knew that the two of us had a feud going.

 

I shrugged. “No clue. But it has to, right?”

 

“I don’t think that teacher of yours should be pairing you up with someone like  _ that. _ I mean, a Potter? What is Slughorn trying to do?”

 

“I don’t know. I think he’s just trying to help the kids at my school get to know each other. I mean, none of us are great at making new friends. We’ve all got our little cliques.”

 

“He should know better than to try and pair you with Potter, though. Doesn’t he realize that our entire family hates that kid?”

 

_ Not me, _ I thought, but agreed with him verbally. No point in making him more upset.

 

“Oh well. It’s for school, so I don’t mind. He can come over for you two to do work, but keep an eye on him while he’s here. I don’t trust him.” My father didn’t trust anyone.

 

“Alright, Father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a review and tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter Four: A Chemistry Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Alex is an OC, since I wasn't feeling particularly inspired to try to work with an already-existing character for his part.

_ Shit. _

 

He was there already.

 

It was 2:30, the time we’d agreed on, but I’d just gotten up. I know—it was late, even for me, but I hadn’t been able to fall asleep until really late.

 

My parents were both already gone, and they had been for half an hour already, but I knew they wouldn’t be back for a while. They were attending some party, and I was guessing they’d probably be with the Lestranges all night.

 

I opened the door, yawning as I did so.

 

Potter frowned at me. “Did you just wake up?” He glanced at my loose sweat pants and plain white tee shirt.

 

“Thank you for stating the obvious. I forgot you were coming over. I would have set my alarm for much earlier if I hadn’t.”

 

“Why would you get up this late to begin with?”

 

“I couldn’t sleep.”

 

“Why not? And even if you couldn’t, what time  _ did _ you fall asleep? 6:00 a.m.?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then what time? And you didn’t answer my question.”

 

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

 

He shrugged. “I suppose not.”

 

I realized that he was still standing outside—in the freezing cold—so I stepped away from the door frame and headed inside. “The house is huge. Don’t get lost.”

 

“What kind of advice is that?” Potter asked as he looked around in wonder at the high arch ways and long rooms that had always made me feel like I was living in a hotel, rather than a real home.

 

“Good advice. If you need anything, just say so. The visitor’s bathroom is down that hallway. It’s the first door on the right.” I pointed towards the one I meant and he made a small sound, indicating that he understood.

 

“You have a visitor’s bathroom?” he asked, seeming mildly impressed.

 

“Yes, Potter, that’s what happens when your parents have more money than they know what to do with. You have three bathrooms per floor.”

 

“How many square feet is this?”

 

“I don’t know,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “Do you want something to eat?”

 

“Nah, I’m good. I just had lunch. What was it like growing up here?”

 

“Great. I’m having cereal. Do you have a computer with you?” I paused, realizing that I shouldn’t have even had to ask. He doesn’t have a bag with him, so he’s only got a phone. “Right. Okay. We can do things on mine. And growing up here? I don’t know. Not a lot of fun. When I’m old enough, I’m going to move into a tiny little apartment that has like 500 square feet. Honestly, I don’t get why people want big houses. You never use most of it, and it just makes everything feel so lonely, even when there are other people in it.”

 

I reached into a cabinet and poured myself some food, adding milk and sitting down with a spoon. I started eating as Potter stood there, looking slightly awkward.

 

I glanced up. “Well, sit down already!”

 

He complied, and after that, we sat in utter silence while I ate. He watched me like he was trying to figure me out.

 

“What?” I finally asked.

 

“I don’t know. I just feel like I know nothing about you. I mean, you can’t be as shallow and obnoxious as I think you are.”

 

I almost laughed at him. It  _ sounded _ like he was trying to be nice, but it wasn’t really working. “Oh, don’t worry. I am  _ just _ as shallow and obnoxious as you think I am.”

 

He frowned. “That doesn’t help though. You don’t seem like you’ve got very good self-esteem, so you could be totally wrong.”

 

It was my turn to watch him. After a moment, I finally said, “Why do you say that?”

 

“Well, you’re popular.” He wrinkled his nose as he said it, like being popular was a bad thing. And really, it kind of was. “And you’re a bully. Most people who are either of those things don’t think very highly of themselves. I mean, bully: You tear other people down because you’re insecure about yourself.” He paused in his breakdown of my every social move, then continued, “Popular: You strive to be at the top of the social pyramid because you’re worried that nothing else with offer you security.”

 

“Aren’t you Mr. Smartypants.” He looked slightly taken aback. “And why are you questioning how I really am? You just said yourself that I’m popular and that I bully. Doesn’t that say enough about me?”

 

“Not really. I mean, if you’re insecure about yourself, then there’s got to be something more. Something you’ve been told you shouldn’t like. So what could that possibly be? I mean, you’re good looking, you’re smart, and when you aren’t being an ass, you’re actually kind of funny. So, what don’t you want people to know?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Alright. Fine. Be like that. But also, not everyone who’s popular is bad. I mean…”

 

“Yeah, I know. I’m one of the bad popular kids.” I rolled my eyes at him. Why did he have to say that not all popular kids were bad if it wasn’t true about me?

 

“That’s not the point. You’re trying to get to the top, and my guess is that it’s because you've been told that’s what’s most important, probably by your father, who I guess only cares about how you’re representing him—”

 

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Sherlock. And enough with the run-on sentences! Seriously!”

 

Potter frowned. “Was I right?”

 

“You shouldn’t just make assumptions,” I said, rather than giving an actual answer. Had he ever been taught how to talk to people?

 

“Sorry.” He looked down. “I’ll stop. But really, can’t we at least try to get to know each other? I mean, the real thing, not these facades we both put out for the world. I know you can’t be as bad as you seem, and I want to figure out how you really are. Besides—it’s Christmas, isn’t it?”

 

“Not yet,” I interjected. He’d basically described me in my entirety. I was a prick to people because of my own flaws, the things that I felt were wrong about me—not that that was any excuse—and I strived to be popular because of what I knew would happen if I wasn’t. I couldn’t be on the bottom; that would only lead to heartbreak and tragedy.

 

“That’s not the point. The point is that we’ve been enemies for far too long, and that maybe now is the time to start changing that. Come on. We should at least give it a shot! This is our junior year, and if we leave high school still hating each other, we’ll never be able to put all of this behind us.”

 

He was trying to pull something. That was it. He wanted me to trust him, just so that he could crush me. “Okay, stop it.”

 

“Stop what?”

 

“You’ve never wanted to give a truce a shot before, so just stop. You’re obviously trying to do something. And besides—why does it matter that we ‘put all of this behind us?’”

 

He looked genuinely surprised. “No, I’m not! I just thought that we’d work better if we weren’t trying to be mean to each other. And honestly—our rivalry is one of the largest at this school! Haven’t you realized how our arguing is affecting everyone around us? After that huge fight a few weeks ago… one of my friends pointed out to me that all I was doing was dragging them down by fighting with you. She brought to my attention how I’m really just engaging in conflict with you now because I don’t want to lose, and it’s bringing all of them down with me.”

 

I looked down. That fight had been pretty epic, and he wasn’t far from wrong. It was on my orders that all of Potter’s crew was bullied, and it was on his orders (or so I assumed) that my group was put through the wringer on a daily basis. It wasn’t fair to all of them; they didn’t have families that hated each other. They didn’t all hate each other. So why were we bringing them into it?

 

I grimaced. “Fine. Fine, we can try to get along. But only to help everyone else.” I tried not to let my excitement show. I might not have to be cruel to him anymore! I could give being friends with Potter a shot!  _ Don’t get too carried away, _ I silently reminded myself.  _ He just wants a truce. He doesn’t want his friends getting hurt anymore. Besides, what would Father say if we weren’t enemies anymore? He’d certainly disapprove. _

 

Potter smiled at that.

 

“So, what? Are we, like, on a first-name basis now?”

 

“Sure. Why not. But don’t expect me to call you anything other than ‘Potter’ for a while.” I was only mildly amused by the smile that was beginning to plaster itself across his face. He had this sort of ‘innocent puppy-dog’ vibe going on, they type of boy that generally I totally wouldn’t go for, but somehow, he made it seem cute.

 

After that exchange, the initial stages of our work went pretty smoothly. It seemed that perhaps I wasn’t the only one who had been being annoying on purpose, because after our agreement to give a truce a shot, he seemed pretty cool. He even had some fairly good ideas for the project, although he wasn’t great help with a lot of it. It was more than I had expected, though.

 

When he left, it was already 4:00, and we had both had an okay time, although neither of us were willing to admit it, but I could see it in his eyes.

 

“That didn’t go too poorly,” he said as he grabbed his phone from the table. I nodded in silent agreement.

 

“When do we want to meet next?” I asked.

 

“Is tomorrow alright? I’ll have to ask the Dursleys, but I’m pretty sure you can come over to my place. I know it’s going to be Christmas Eve, so if you can’t that’s totally fine.”

 

“No, no. I can do that. Nothing earlier than one o’clock though. Got it?” I pulled out my phone to start putting it into my Google Calendar so that I’d get a notification. I hated it when I forgot about something until the last second—like I did today—and had to leave the house without doing my hair first.

 

He rolled his eyes at me. “Yes. You have the strangest sleep patterns.”

 

And with that, he strode out, bidding me a quick, “Good night,” before beginning his trek home. I was slightly worried about him walking home in the current temperatures, but not having my license, it wasn’t like I could offer to drive him home. So I just watched him disappear into the night.

  
  


The following day, I headed over to Potter’s house at 1:00 p.m., arriving just after 1:45. I had to walk the whole way.

 

I was surprised when I got there, seeing how small the place was. I really shouldn’t have been; I’d just gotten used to having rich friends.

 

I took a deep breath, straightening out my thick jacket and knocking on the door. A beefy man opened the door. I was about the same height as him.

 

I did my best to offer him a charming smile, and held out my hand. “You must be Mr. Dursley.” I figured that it would probably be best not to start off on the wrong foot after hearing what Potter—or Harry, I supposed I should be calling him now— had said about the man.

 

He briefly shook my hand. “And you must be that Malfoy kid.” He gave me a forced smile that was more of a grimace than anything else, but then stepped aside to let me enter.

 

The inside of the house felt cramped, but it wasn’t all bad. It seemed to be kept in neat order, with a flower vase in nearly every corner.

 

I headed stiffly over to the living room where Potter was sitting with the Weasley girl and Granger. Weasley had been placed in our chemistry class since she was so good at it, and Granger (who was the teacher’s assistant this year) had been appointed to be her partner, since Mr. Slughorn had been one short.

 

“Your friend is here,” Mr. Dursley called from the other room, quite needlessly.

 

I quickly removed my thick winter jacket and scarf, leaving on a sleeveless black sweater and white button-down. I ran a hand through my hair, doing my best to smooth it out—even with gel, the wind had still managed to whip it into a mess.

 

I sat down cautiously on the edge of the sofa, not wanting to intrude.

 

“Yeah, kinda got that,” Potter retorted with more snark in his voice than I’d heard before.

 

I raised an eyebrow at him. He just shook his head.

 

“What are they doing here?” I asked, jerking my head toward Weasley and Granger.

 

“They’re working with us. You know, study party!” I resisted the urge to let out a groan. “And besides—can you really complain? They’re both doing better in chemistry than either of us.”

 

“I’m not even taking your chemistry class!” Granger snapped. “I’m just helping out since I finished all of the offered science classes last year!”

 

“Okay,” I said.

 

Everyone was pulling out their things for research, and Harry was beginning to ask me questions about how we wanted to write our report when my phone dinged.

 

He was still talking when I glanced down.

 

Alex:

_ Heey ther sexy. _

 

Alex:

_ U wana meet uupp? _

 

Alex:

_ Com on darling! _

 

Me:

_ Are you drunk? _

 

He never texted—or talked—like that normally.

 

Alex:

_ /nooo.. _

 

Alex:

_ ok maybe _

 

Me:

_ Alex! You’re underage! Why are you getting drunk? _

 

Alex:

_ cuz its fun! _

 

Me:

_ You can’t do that! There’s a reason that you’re not supposed to drink until you’re older! You’re going to do something stupid. Where are you? I want someone to go pick you up right now! _

 

“Stop texting!” Harry whined. “We’re supposed to be working.”

 

I didn’t respond to him. I was too focused on what my boyfriend was doing to really care.

 

Alex:

_ nnoooo _

 

Alex:

_ im having so much fun _

 

Me:

_ I don’t care! You shouldn’t be drinking. You need to get somewhere safe right now. _

 

Alex:

_ i dont care _

 

Alex:

_ u just dont want me to have fun _

 

Me:

_ That’s not true. I just want you to be safe. _

 

Alex:

_ dont be a jackass. _

 

Then I saw his icon disappear. I willed him not to do something really dumb. I was very worried. Had he done this before? Would he do it again?

 

“Draco!” Harry snapped.

 

I glanced up, putting my phone away. “Sorry.” I stopped. “Wait… did you just use my first name?” Even with our… _ agreement _ I’d figured he would just keep using “Malfoy” to address me.

 

He shifted slightly. “Yeah… But that doesn’t matter right now! We aren’t going to get this done if you aren’t helping!”

 

I held his gaze. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “One of my friends is in a bit of trouble and I was just trying to help them out.”

 

Harry cocked his head. “What sort of trouble?” he asked, suddenly curious.

 

“It doesn’t matter. Now let’s get back to work.”

 

I put aside my sense of unease and hoped that Alex would be okay.

 

“Is it someone we know?” Weasley prodded further.

 

“No. Now drop it.”

 

“Is it a girl?” Potter asked in a suggestive voice.

 

“I said  _ drop it. _ ”

 

“Oooh,” Weasley giggled. I sighed slightly. I supposed them thinking it was a girl and assuming we were dating was better than them assuming it was a boy.

 

“What’s her name?” Granger asked.

 

I decided I might as well throw them a bone. “Alex,” I said. “Now can we go back to working?”

 

“Fine,” Weasley moaned.

  
  


Alex:

_ Sorry about yesterday. _

 

Alex:

_ I don’t know what I was thinking, getting drunk like that. Someone just asked me if I wanted to try some, and I don’t know what was going through my head, but I said yes. _

 

Alex:

_ It won’t happen again. I swear. _

 

Alex:

_ And sorry for calling you a jackass. I didn’t mean it and it isn’t true. You’re an absolutely amazing boyfriend and I couldn’t ask for anyone better. _

 

I closed my eyes after reading the last one. I was able to be me around Alex, but he still deserved better than me. I started texting back.

 

Me:

_ Alright. Thank you for apologizing. _

 

Alex:

_ You’re welcome. Hey, do you want to hang out today? I’m in town. _

 

Me:

_ I can’t. I’m sorry. I already have plans. _

 

Alex:

_ Really? With whom? To do what? _

 

Me:

_ I have a chemistry assignment that I have to do with a partner. We’re meeting up today to get some of it done. _

 

Alex:

_ Awww… but I never get to hang out with you anymore! I feel like I haven’t gotten a chance to kiss that adorable face of yours in forever! _

 

Me:

_ I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve just had tons of homework lately. _

 

Alex:

_ Yeah. I get it. But that’s what you say every time! I hate it. I feel like you aren’t willing to make time for me, like you don’t like me anymore. _

 

Me:

_ Alex, that’s not at all true! I love you, and you should know that. I have to focus on my grades though. They matter, especially now. Alright? _

 

Alex:

_ Fine. But I still think we should spend more time together. You are my boyfriend, after all, and I can’t stand being away from you! All I want to do is hold you in my arms, cuddle, make out, do that sort of thing, but you never have time! _

 

We continued arguing for quite a bit of time after that, and I began to feel a bit guilty, even though I knew that I shouldn’t. I made an agreement with him that I would still focus on my grades and that he had to be supportive of that, but I would make more of an effort to maintain our relationship. It was a two-way street, after all.

 

We also decided that we wouldn’t go on a date that following day, but I agreed to give him a heads up the next time I was free.

 

We’d had arguments like that before, but each time was worse than the last. I was beginning to feel like maybe I should be dating someone else, someone that understood my caring about grades, someone that wanted to help me through it. I knew that spending time with my boyfriend was important, of course, and I did. But he lived so far away, and it wasn’t like I could just drop my entire life to go see him every few weeks.

  
  


“You seem a little bit upset. Did something happen with that friend of yours? You said she was in a bit of trouble yesterday.” Harry asked suddenly.

 

We’d been working without stop for the last hour, and neither of us had broken our laser focus to talk about anything other than the task at hand.

 

The two of us were currently alone in the house, despite the fact that so many lived there. Harry was spending the next few days with the Weasleys, so we’d relocated our operation to adjust.

 

“Yeah,” I said, seeing no real point in arguing. “Alex says I don’t spend enough time.... you know, we don’t spend enough time with each other. But I mean, what does Alex expect? For me to just drop all of my school work? We live so many miles apart, so the only time we can see each other is when one of us is visiting family, but it’s not like I can just sacrifice an A so that we can spend an hour more together!” I was working hard on not using pronouns. I didn’t want to misgender him, but I also didn’t want to reveal that Alex was a boy since Potter seemed to think—and rightly so—that there was something between us. “Basically, we just had an argument over that. Nothing big.”

 

“Well, did she directly ask you if you could spend time together while the two of us were supposed to be working?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Then either give her a time when the two of you can be together, or reschedule with me! Honestly, you can be kind of thick sometimes.”

 

“But it’s not just that! Alex wants us to be together every single minute when we’re in the same city, and it just won’t work!”

 

“Then tell her that. But make sure that she knows you care about her, and make time where you  _ can _ be together!”

 

I nodded. I never thought that I’d come to a day when  _ Potter _ was giving me dating advice.

 

“Thanks. Okay. I’ll try that. In fact, I’ll text hi—Alex when I get home and make a plan for us to get together.” I winced. I hoped that Potter hadn’t noticed my slip up. Unfortunately, from the frown on his face, he might have.

 

“Were you going to say…  _ ‘him?’ _ ”

 

I paused. I could either lie, or tell the truth. Both seemed equally as unreasonable.

 

First, it wasn’t like I could convincingly pass Potter off as being incorrect. I was a shit liar, and Potter always seemed to have a nose for my lies in particular. That would probably make him more upset, since he probably didn’t understand the whole “coming out” ordeal. That would put things in a precarious situation where he might be tempted to tell someone just to spite me, thinking I’d gone back to my “old ways” of lying.

 

Second, telling the truth would mean telling him what only three other people in the entire world knew. That could also lead to him outing me, but I’d be going into telling him with Potter having a slightly cooler head, so I might be able to get through to him slightly easier.

 

I couldn’t seem to get words from my mouth, so Potter started to smile.

 

“I take it that’s a yes?”

 

At that point, there was no real reason to even give bluffing a shot. “Fine. Yes.”

 

“Why’d you say Alex was a girl, then?”

 

“I never said he was a girl. You did. I just didn’t correct you.”

 

“So you’re dating?” he asked, a little louder than necessary. “Does that mean you’re gay?”

 

“Yes, but you can’t say anything!” I said, suddenly worried. Why hadn’t I lied again? “And just because I like… well,  _ boys _ doesn’t necessarily mean I’m gay. For all you know, I could be bi. Or pan. Or something along those lines. But yes, I am gay. And I’ll reiterate: Do not tell anyone. About any part of this.”

 

“No, no, your secret’s safe with me!”

 

“That means you can’t even tell Granger or Weasley! Or the girl Weasley!”

 

“Fine, fine. Let’s get back to work, okay?”

 

My sexuality didn’t come up again, and Potter didn’t act much different, which was a relief.

 

I wondered, a bit offhand, if the Dursleys had raised him to be pro-LGBTQIA+ (which was unlikely) or if he’d gotten there on his own.

  
  


It was Christmas morning. It was also the earliest I’d awoken all weak—11:30 a.m.

 

I headed downstairs, checking my messages as I went. I’d taken Potter’s advice, and now I was on for a lunch date the following afternoon with Alex.

 

“Morning,” I said to my parents, who were for once both there.

 

They both gave uninterested grunts, sipping their coffee as they read the newspaper together. I grabbed some food and sat down in the dining room with them.

 

Family rule: No presents until after breakfast.

 

Not that I ever really cared. All anyone ever got me was textbooks, new, preppy clothes (I’m pretty sure that they were hoping it would make me stop being emo), and oftentimes a new phone.

 

All in all, the morning and afternoon of Christmas went pretty well. My mother and father said hardly anything to me, mostly consisting of, “Do the dishes,” and “Happy Christmas,” but that was better than usual.

 

It wasn’t until we were all helping make dinner that things really blew up.


	5. A Chemical Reaction

Christmas evening was when things really spun out of control.

 

The day had been going decent, but, for some reason, the universe had decided that I couldn’t have even one day to just relax.

 

The three of us—my mother, my father, and myself—were in the kitchen, making dinner, as was tradition on Christmas. Throughout most of the year, we rotated whose turn it was to make dinner, but Christmas we’d decided long ago no one should be forced to make food alone for the rest of the family.

 

That started off just fine, too. Really, it was my phone that messed everything up.

 

It was resting on the counter near my father when it started buzzing.

 

Alex and I had been having a bit of a rough time lately, and I’d thought that we had worked everything out, but I guess that he felt otherwise.

 

The first message was all that it took.

 

Alex:

_ I’m sorry, Draco. I can’t be your boyfriend anymore. This isn’t working. I still want to be friends, though, and I think you’re an amazing person. Is that cool? _

 

As the screen on my phone lit up, my father glanced at it, since he was the closest person to the device.

 

“It says it’s from your friend Alex. He says, ‘I’m sorry Draco. I can’t be your bo—’” His eyes darkened. “Draco,” he said slowly. “Why did he say that he was your boyfriend?”

 

My mother nearly dropped the plate she was holding. My heart stopped.

 

No one spoke.

 

It dinged again.

 

_ I’m really sorry. I hope you understand. But with everything going on in your life, we just can’t see each other enough. You know that. Texting is great and all, but it’s just not enough to maintain a serious relationship. I still love you though. _

 

Dad read that one too. I prayed that Alex would stop texting, because the more he did, the more trouble he got me in.

 

I wasn’t even in a place to be upset. I couldn’t process what was happening. All I knew was that this was the worst Christmas I’d ever had.

 

“Draco. Are you— _ were  _ you dating this… this  _ boy _ ?”

 

“No?” I said, the word coming out as more of a question than I’d intended it too. But there was no getting out of it. “I’m sorry, Dad! I really am! But you can’t change that this is who I am! I’m still your son. I’m still the same person that I was thirty seconds ago!”

 

“You are no son of mine. If you were, you wouldn’t love another boy,” he snarled. “Get out. Get out now!”

 

I knew I couldn’t argue, so I snatched my phone from his hands and dashed out of the place.

 

I managed to grab a sweater on the way out, but that wasn’t enough. It was unseasonably cold, and to make matters worse, it was snowing and dark out.

 

That had all happened way too fast.

 

_ I have nowhere to go _ , I suddenly realized.

 

Theodore, Vincent, and Gregory were all out of town.

 

None of my family would let me stay with them if they knew. But then again, my father might be too embarrassed to tell them. I knew that I shouldn’t risk it, though; if the had been told, the result could be disastrous.

 

Alex was staying in town, but it was way too far to walk in these temperatures. I of course could if it came down to that, but it was certainly not preferable.

 

_ Harry. _

 

He was spending Christmas with the Weasleys, and that wasn’t too far away.

 

_ I shouldn’t… but if I don’t, I might freeze to death. _

 

I debated my options for several minutes, but as my fingers started to go numb, I decided that the Weasleys were my only decent option.

 

So, tucking my hands under my arms and picking up my pace, I headed in the direction that I remembered going for one of our study sessions.

 

It was very quiet out.

 

Almost every house I passed had lights strung up, a Christmas tree in the window, and families inside. They all looked so happy, so warm, so comfortable, the way that I should have been.

 

Christmases with the Malfoys had never really been like that, though. They were proper, and respectable, in the sense that they probably would have represented a Christmas two hundred years ago in an average household.

 

As I continued to walk, I thought about everything I’d missed out on, but eventually realized that all that would do was drag me down further.

 

I did my best to think of something happy, something to take my mind off of everything, but nothing worked. I just kept going back to what my father had said.  _ “You are no son of mine.” _ His words echoed throughout my skull, embedding themselves in my brain. My father and I had never really been close, but those words still stung. A lot.

 

I eventually pulled out my phone and scrolled through the texts from Alex, reading what my father hadn’t. I supposed I should be sad, but for some reason, I wasn’t. I’d been dating him for almost a year now, but I’d been drifting for a while. I think that I had only really stayed with him out of habit, and because I didn’t want to be alone. I had no one to talk to, so he’d always been someone I could go to with my problems and my happy revelations.

 

But I think that in the last few months, I was only holding on because I was scared of what it would mean to  _ not _ date him.

 

I hoped we could stay friends, though. I enjoyed his company.

  
  


Finally, I reached the cottage known as “The Burrow.”

 

Whenever I saw that place, it made me long for a normal childhood. It seemed so lively and full of joy, whereas my parents’ mansion just felt cold and desolate.

 

Shaking with cold, I raised a trembling hand to the door. I knocked three times, and then stepped back. I felt guilty for intruding on them like this, but really—what other option did I have?

 

I heard footsteps and someone calling, “I’ll get it!” I had the fleeting thought that it might be Harry, which caused my heart to accelerate, but as I heard the person approach, I realized that their feet fell much too heavily for it to be him.

 

The door was opened by Mrs. Weasley, who I’d never actually spoken to, despite the fact that I’d spent two whole hours in her house the previous evening.

 

“Draco! What on Earth are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with your family?”

 

I felt tears spring to my eyes and I willed them not to fall. I wasn’t going to cry over this. I wasn’t, I wasn’t, I wasn’t.

 

I slowly shook my head.

 

“Why not? Draco, what’s wrong?”

 

I appreciated her ability to separate what her children had inevitably told her about me from what was happening at the moment.

 

“I’m not allowed back there,” I managed to choke out. “They don’t—they don’t want me anymore.” Tears started streaming down my face. In the background, I saw some people running around, tearing up the house.

 

“You’ll never get me alive!” came the voice of who I assumed was Fred.

 

“Why are you resisting?” George asked.

 

“Yeah!” Ginny agreed. “It’s only”—she giggled—“a little Christmas makeover!”

 

“Hold still!” Hermione groaned.

 

“No!” Fred yelped. “None of you have  _ ever _ done makeup before! You’re going to murder me!”

 

“Hold on,” Molly said. “Boys! And Hermione and Ginny, too! Stop roughhousing. You can torture each other  _ after  _ dinner.”

 

“But Mom,” George whined. “You’ve been gone for, like, a whole five minutes!”

 

“And I’ll probably be gone for  _ another _ five minutes. Now start acting like you’re actually 18 and sit down.”

 

“Why?” Harry asked. “Who’s there?”

 

Everyone crowded around Molly, trying to get a look.

 

“Oh. Hi, Draco,” Harry said. Then he frowned. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

 

I didn’t meet his gaze.

 

“All of you! Back inside. Let me deal with this and you’ll find out later. Got it?” The children began to groan at Molly’s order.

 

“Fine,” Fred said, and it appeared that he was trying to hide a smile.

 

“And no spying! Go join your father at the table and remain there quietly until I return.”

 

They all looked very upset by that, but none of them decided to argue with her any further.

 

Molly waited for a moment before continuing. “Tell me what happened.”

 

I paused. Should I tell her everything?  _ Well, _ I thought,  _ I am asking her to let me stay in her house. I might as well be honest. And besides—now that my parents know, what use is it to keep hiding? _

 

“My parents found out that I am…  _ was _ dating a boy. And they…” I trailed off, liquid flowing faster from my eyes. “They kicked me out.”

 

“Oh, honey,” Molly said, looking horrified, like she couldn’t understand a parent doing something like that to their own child. And really, she probably couldn’t. “Do you have any family that would take you?”

 

“No, that’s why I’m here,” I forced out through my sobs. “I was wondering if I could stay with you? Just until the end of break? Then Theodore Nott’s family will be back and I can stay with them. I know that you probably don’t like me, but I’m trying to be better.” I realized that it was all coming out too fast in a blubbery mess, but I decided that wasn’t totally important.

 

“Of course you can!” Molly frowned slightly. “I mean, after I check with Arthur, of course, but after that, yes. I’m sure he’ll say it’s fine. Why don’t you come inside? We’re just finishing up supper. Have you eaten yet?”

 

I shook my head as she led me inside.

 

When we reached the dining room, Molly pulled out a chair for me and grabbed Mr. Weasley. The two vanished for a second, but returned not too long after.

 

“He says it will be fine, Draco.”

 

She started heaping food onto my plate, and while I first protested about how much she was giving me, I quickly learned it was pointless to argue.

 

Pleasant conversation ensued, but I sort of got the feeling that they were being overly polite in an attempt to seem pleasant toward me. I realized that they probably still viewed me as some rich prick’s son. Which, to be fair, I was.

 

Finally, Ronald burst forward with what I assumed most of the others were thinking. “Okay, I can’t keep not saying this. What is he doing here?” He pointed at me with his finger as he glared at his mother.

 

“He’s eating with us,” Molly said, doing a wonderful job of stating the obvious.

 

Hermione snorted at that. “Yes. Really, Ron. Use your eyes,” she said facetiously.

 

Ron huffed. “Okay.  _ Why _ is he eating with us?”

 

“Because. Why would you want to deny someone that is now  _ living with you _ the right to a pleasant meal?”

 

Ron spit out his food. “He’s  _ what? _ ”

 

“Living with us. At least for the rest of the break or until his parents will let him return to Malfoy Manor.”

 

“Why won’t they let him come back?” Ron asked. He looked mildly more sympathetic now than seconds before, but still sounded annoyed.

 

“I think that he can chose to answer that however he sees fit.”

 

I felt all eyes turn to me. I shrunk back in my seat a bit. “I—well, they… er… found out something they didn’t particularly like, and instead of trying to understand, they rejected it, and, by default, me.”

 

“What was it? Did you knock someone up?” Ron frowned.

 

Fred let out a snort. I shot him a look. He’d become aware of everything last year after… well, it was an interesting event, let’s just say that.

 

“No, Ronald.”

 

“Then what could they possibly have been so upset about? And how did they find out?”

 

I sighed. There wasn’t totally a point in not saying. Once again—now that my parents knew, there was no reason to keep hiding in the closet.

 

I put down my fork and looked him in the eyes. “My father had my phone when my boyfriend broke up with me via text.”

 

“Alex dumped you  _ over text _ ?” was the first thing Fred said. “I told you that guy was a dick sack.”

 

“Shut up. He was totally fine.”   
  


“Whatever,” Fred said, rolling his eyes.

 

“I thought that you two had worked things out though!” Harry said, looking concerned.

 

“You two knew?” Ron asked.

 

“I slipped up in conversation with Harry,” I said. “And I didn’t see the point in trying to convince him he’d heard wrong.”

 

“How ‘bout Fred then? Why does he know?”

 

Fred shoved his mouth full of food and then started speaking, but it all came out as a jumbled mess. “Las ear we weh trin tu mchhownmf fnowfsh solhown…” His speech started out semi-translatable, but quickly became much harder to identify as an actual language.

 

“Stop speaking with your mouth full!” Ron complained.

 

Fred swallowed. “Anyway,” he said, talking over Ron, “that’s how all of this began.” He smirked at me, and I just rolled my eyes.

 

“You can tell the truth, you know,” I said. “I don’t really care.”

 

“I was telling the truth. Just not in an understandable manner.”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

“Fine.” Fred turned to face Ron. “We… fooled around last year.”

 

“Why?” Ron asked, looking disgusted.

 

“Because it was fun? But relax. He’s so uptight; it’s not like it ever  _ went _ anywhere.”

 

“I am not uptight!” I tried to defend myself. I head Harry let out a laugh, and I glanced him through the corner of my eye.

 

“Um, you kinda are,” Fred muttered.

 

“Okay,” Ron said. “So let me get this straight—”

 

Ron was cut off by giggling coming from Fred and me.

 

“Sorry,” Fred said. “It just reminded me of that meme…”

 

“Oh my God! Me too!” I exclaimed.

 

The two of us high fived while everyone else watched in silence.

 

“Anyway,” Ron finally said. “So you two are both gay, right?” The two of us nodded. “And you dated… or something… last year?” Again, we nodded. “And Harry knew?”

 

“No, not about the two of us. Just about me.”

 

“Okay. So now your parents know and you’re not allowed to go back.”

 

“That pretty much sums it up.”

 

“Why are you being honest with us, then?” Ginny asked. “You’ve got to have some internalized homophobia.”

 

“I worked past most of it a while ago. So yes, a little bit. But now that my parents know, there’s no one that I’m worried about finding out, so I don’t know why I should stay in the closet.”

 

Ginny nodded. “So, after dinner, will you help us put makeup on Fred?”

 

“Okay, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean that I’m willing to do anything  and everything feminine.”

 

“Come on,” Fred groaned. “You’re probably the only one of all of them that’s ever done makeup before! And even if any of them have, I doubt they’re halfway decent. You’d be doing me a favor.” He gave me an adorable pout. I blushed slightly.

 

“Fine. But I’m not getting too involved.”

 

“Why have you used cosmetics before?” Percy asked, ever a stuck-up prat.

 

I glanced at him. “Um, because my mother has let all of hers go to waste, and it’s not like anyone’s ever home on the weekend. I mean, what am I supposed to do after I finish my homework? Make a water slide down the stairs?”

 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Isn’t that just sort of… girly?”

 

“Um, sexist much?” Ginny glared at her older brother.

 

“Sorry,” he shrugged.

 

“Sure, it doesn’t exactly scream ‘straight,’ but we’ve already established—I’m not. But really—I haven’t done any in years, so I doubt I’m any good now.” It was true. I hadn’t.

 

“Why did you stop?” Hermione asked.

 

“My mother started to notice that things were going missing, and I also got old enough to realize that getting caught would spell disaster.”

 

“Ah,” she said.

 

“But I also want you to know—I am not the complete stereotype of gay.”

 

They all quietly nodded. After that, no one said much.

 

I glanced around the dining room. It felt so warm, and happy, so full of life and love. The Weasleys might not have been rich like my family, but they certainly seemed to be rich in another way.

 

They all cared about each other, they all loved each other, and they would have done anything to help one another, even if they didn’t always act like it. It was the kind of thing that the house I’d grown up in had never held inside it.

 

I watched Hermione glance around and open her mouth, like she was going to say something, but then decided against it, as though the silence was just too heavy to be able to properly disturb without it just being awkward.

 

Finally, I lifted the blanket that seemed to be muffling every sound. “Listen… I’m sorry about how mean I’ve been to all of you over the years. I really am. Especially you, Harry. I mean, all of this started with me trying to climb to the top of the social pyramid, and then I started to feel like I’d been wrong about you, that I’d been wrong to listen to my father’s every word, so it became… well, it got out of hand and I didn’t know how to stop.” No need to say  _ why _ it had gotten out of hand.

 

“Apology accepted,” Harry said, smiling at me. I tried hard not to let my gaze drift to those lips of his. That smile always made me feel a little weak. It was the smile that said he meant it, that said he was honestly happy. It made me feel peaceful inside.

 

“Woah, woah, woah, dude,” Ron turned towards Harry, breaking the moment. “How can you just accept that? Ever since we started high school he’s been out to get us! And now just a few words and you’re like, ‘Yeah, sure, great, we can be friends! Sunshine and rainbows all around!’”

 

“Draco and I actually already talked about this. We’ve been fighting for so long and we’ve been hurting everyone around us in doing so. We decided to give a truce a shot. I was planning on telling you in a bit.”

 

“Why? He’s—” Ron cut himself off, like he’d only just remembered that I was there. I wondered what had just been about to come out of his mouth. “He’s not exactly the greatest person we’ve ever met.”

 

“You’re absolutely right,” I interrupted Ron. “But I’m willing to work on it. I don’t have anyone really close to me anymore, and I don’t want to keep being like that. I also don’t want to keep being mean to people I actually think are pretty good hearted and kind. I don’t expect you to like me, Ronald, but I would greatly appreciate it if you’d give me a chance to prove to you that I’m not exactly who you think I am.”

 

Hermione shrugged. “I think we should give him a chance,” she said, mostly to Ron. “I mean, what could it hurt? We don’t even have to be friends with him! All we have to do is be civil towards each other for a little while.”

 

“I guess when you put it like that, it’s not so bad,” Ron said, watching Hermione with such big eyes it was almost comical. Everyone knew he had a crush on her, but for some reason, she’d never made a play at him.

 

Ginny nodded. “I’d be fine with that.” Slowly, the others all nodded.

 

Right then, the doorbell rang.

 

“That should be Luna and Neville!” Molly said, getting up. And sure enough, it was.

  
  


After much more time spent explaining, eating, and chatting, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went to bed, and the older kids all left to a party they’d been invited to before Fred could be strapped down in a chair and held still for a makeover, much to the disappointment of virtually everyone.

 

That left Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Luna, Neville, and me to our own devices.

 

It was nearly midnight.

 

“What do you guys want to do?” Neville asked.

 

“Truth or dare?” was the first option to come out of Harry’s mouth.

 

“Na, that’s like middle school-grade sleepover material,” Ron countered.

 

“Spin the bottle?” Luna suggested.

 

“Sure,” Hermione said. “But what if Ron gets Ginny, or vice versa?”

 

“Spin again,” I offered. The girls nodded. “Any objections to the game?”

 

Ron opened his mouth, but then sighed and shook his head.

 

“Okay, what rules are we going by?” Ginny asked. “Just five seconds? Shorter? What do you guys think?”

 

“Five seconds for opposite gender and a peck on the cheek for same gender?” Ron offered.

 

“Why? Can’t we just do five for both?” I questioned. “Otherwise you’re just being kind of heteronormative and homophobic.”

 

“I agree with Draco,” Ginny seconded.

 

“Me too,” Hermione said.

 

“Same,” Luna agreed.

 

“I don’t care,” Neville added.

 

“Okay, then it’s settled,” Harry said. “Five seconds for anyone it lands on, unless you’re related.”

 

Within seconds, a bottle had been produced and we’d all been sat down in a circle.

 

“Who starts?” Ginny wondered. “Luna, since she suggested it?”

 

We all agreed to that, so suddenly Luna had the bottle by the middle and was flicking it in a circle.

 

It seemed to just keep spinning, but after what felt like forever, it landed on Ginny.

 

“Ooooh,” everyone said, looking at the pair. Ginny just shrugged and the two kissed as the rest of us counted out the seconds, and then Ginny took her turn.

 

The bottle landed on Harry, who didn’t seem too upset by that development, and went right along with what he was bade to do.

 

When Harry spun the bottle, I had a vague hope it would be me, but I dismissed that thought immediately. It wasn’t like it would change things between us. If anything, they’d just become more awkward for me, and he probably wouldn’t enjoy it much.

 

But, lo and behold, it did land on me.

 

Harry offered a slight smirk as he moved over to me. My heart pounded against my chest as I tried in vain to keep a calm expression.

 

He put one hand behind my neck, and brought his lips to mine, just holding them there. I sucked in a quick breath through my nose. He smelled like pine trees and snow.

 

It was like fireworks, blood rushing through my body, his face against mine. It felt so right. I was trying too hard to keep a cool head.

 

I could vaguely hear everyone counting in the background, but it meant little to me. All I was focused on was the moment, at which point I was more or less unable to move for fear of scaring Harry off.

 

At long last the others reached five, and Harry pulled away, sitting back down with a smug smile on his face, like he knew what that had done to me.

 

I blinked once, and then twice. I took a deep breath and spun the bottle as my own head whirled in circles trying to recall every detail. If only Harry felt the same way about me.

 

The rest of the game passed in a blur, and I rarely got chosen, but Harry and I didn’t end up kissing again, much to my disappointment.

 

I supposed that was probably for the better, though. I didn’t think that my brain could have handled another meaningless kiss from him.

 

After about thirty minutes of playing, the seven of us got a little burnt out and agreed to just watch a movie.

 

We all squeezed ourselves down on the couch, trying to fit, but in the end, Ron and Neville had to sit in the arm chairs on either side of the sofa.

 

Harry plopped down right next to me—whether it was on purpose or not, I had no idea—and put an arm around my shoulder. I gave him a look, and he just shrugged at me, as if to say,  _ What? _

 

The six others, unfortunately, out voted me in our movie-watching decision, so I got stuck with a horror movie first.

 

I must, shamefully, say that I did have to stop watching at one point and bury my face in Harry’s shoulder. At that moment, he sort of smiled at me—he found it  _ amusing _ for God’s sake—and wrapped his arm tighter around my shoulders.

 

By the time it was finally over (at about 2:00 a.m.), the rest of them agreed to watch a regular old action/adventure movie, which I was much more okay with.

 

I, being a wimp, must have fallen asleep part way through because I didn’t remember much after the first hour or so of the movie. I was not the only one, though.

 

When I awoke several hours later at around nine in morning (early, I know), I was still curled up next to Harry, only now we had a blanket covering the two of us.

 

I slowly started to sit up, my back in plenty of pain, and did my best not to wake Harry. He looked so peaceful and content just slumped over there, sound asleep.

 

He shifted slightly, and I cursed myself for not having been stealthy enough.

 

“What time is it?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s about nine.” He nodded as I sat back down. “When did I fall asleep?” I wondered aloud.

 

“Oh, 3:30 or so. I don’t think I fell asleep too much after that.”

 

We sat in silence for a little bit, until I finally decided I had to say something. I couldn’t stay quiet anymore.

 

“So, what did you think of spin the bottle last night?” I asked as casually as I could.

 

“Oh, I don’t know. It was interesting, I suppose. I don’t think I ever want to kiss Ron again.” We both laughed. “But…” Harry looked like he was struggling over whether or not to say something. “I did sort of like… It wasn’t all bad,” he finally got out.

 

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Which part ‘wasn’t so bad?’”

 

He looked down. “Kissing you,” he worked out. Then he looked up, his gaze meeting mine, and it was like he was pleading me that I’d say I felt the same.

 

Unfortunately, I was too surprised to say much in the moment. He seemed to take that as a bad sign. “Please. Say something. This is killing me.”

 

Still unable to speak, I leaned forward and kissed him again. It was short, brief, hardly even a peck, but when I pulled away, Harry was grinning like a madman.

 

“So you  _ do _ like me! I was beginning to think you didn’t!”

 

“Yeah. I guess I do. But you like  _ me _ ? I thought you were straight!” I was in a state of confusion at that second, which was easily cleared up in his next sentence:

 

“Nah, I’m bi. I’ve had the largest crush on you since we met.”

 

“Really?” I felt my mind go back to when he’d asked the same thing about my favorite color. Really though—my response was  _ much _ more reasonable.

 

“Really. I thought that you’d have noticed by now.”

 

“I don’t know… I guess I just figured that with my luck, there was no way you’d ever like me back.” Honestly. He was practically the straightest guy I knew.

 

“Well, we’ve established that that’s wrong, haven’t we?”

 

I smiled. “Yes, I suppose we have.”

 

He put a hand on my cheek, and I wondered how we’d gotten here. I mean, just the previous week we’d been EFL (Enemies For Life—it was what we’d dubbed ourselves way back in our freshmen year), and now we were… this? What was  _ this _ though? What were we now?

 

I leaned forward again and our noses brushed. I could feel his hot breath against my neck as I brought our lips slowly together again.

 

“You guys!” a voice came from the staircase nearby. “Potter and Malfoy are snogging!”

 

“Luna!” I yelled.

 

“Sorry,” she said in that drifty voice of hers. “I couldn’t help it. Did I ruin the moment?” She sounded guilty.

 

“Yes. Clearly,” I snapped.

 

“Hey, be nice,” Harry said. “But yes, a little bit, Luna.”

 

Ron came down the stairs. “Did I just hear correctly?” he asked Luna. Then he glanced over the railing and saw the two of us sitting on the couch and scowled. “I assume that I did, then,” he said as Harry wrapped his fingers around mine. “Listen mate, I don’t care who you date, so long as I’m still your best friend, because really—who would be better than me?” He offered Harry a small smile. “But really? Malfoy? Why him?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Sorry. I guess the chemistry’s just right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it! Leave a comment and tell me what you thought! And don't forget to check out the next story from this series, which will be coming out December 2018!


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